


A Qualified Beauty

by velvetjinx



Series: Candids 'verse [2]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 2: glasses</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Qualified Beauty

One of the things that Simon had always loved about sitting at the judges’ table was that he could watch Ryan no matter where he was on the stage. Not that Simon liked watching him for the sake of it, exactly. It wasn’t anything so ridiculously romantic. It was simply that Simon liked to keep an eye on what was his, and Ryan was quite unequivocally his; had been, in fact, almost since the moment they’d met. Simon wasn’t kidding about Ryan being like a little dog whose tail was always wagging around him, because that’s exactly what he was like – constantly begging for approval and wanting Simon’s attention to be on him and him only. It could get wearing, sometimes, but Simon couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy having such a gorgeous young man being so eager to please him.

And Ryan _was_ always eager to please.

Tonight was the second-to-last results night of the semi-finals, and Simon hadn’t seen Ryan all evening; thanks to traffic, Simon had arrived late enough that he had to be rushed through make-up, and by the time he was done in there it was time to head out onto the set. He managed not to drum his fingers impatiently while they got through the melodramatic hyperactive-spotlights intro, but then as the credits rolled for the audience at home, Ryan bounded onto his mark, and Simon sat up straight.

Ryan was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with the slogan ‘Beauty qualifies me’, which was so _very_ Ryan, but Simon was more interested in the fact that tonight, for whatever reason, Ryan was wearing his glasses.

Simon felt his mouth go dry and reached for his water as Ryan started his intro, somehow managing not to leap over the desk and pounce on the infuriating boy there and then. Ryan _knew_ what effect wearing glasses had on Simon, and yet there he was. As far as Simon was concerned, he’d better have a damned good reason for it.

Somehow managing to get through the whole hour without doing something that would ruin both of their careers – despite Ryan’s cracks about him enjoying being abused by women and his general… _Ryan-ness_ , which drove Simon a little crazy at the best of times – Simon gave Ryan ten minutes after the end of the show before barging unannounced into his dressing room. Ryan barely glanced up from the mirror where he was removing his make-up.

“Did you want something, Simon?” he asked, his voice irritatingly calm, and Simon barely managed not to slam the door behind him in annoyance. Instead, he closed it carefully, locking it before turning back around.

“What do you think?” Simon kept his voice forcibly calm, and Ryan _finally_ turned away from the mirror and looked at him, an eyebrow raised behind those damn glasses.

Simon took a few steps towards him, hiding a smile at the brief flash of alarm in Ryan’s eyes that was visible before it was replaced by an insolent glare.

“I think that you’ve come into my dressing room uninvited and are now trying to intimidate me for some reason.” 

Simon could tell that Ryan had been aiming for an annoyed tone to his voice, but it had fallen closer to a satisfied purr, which told him two things. Firstly, that Ryan was feeling particularly playful this evening, which was always good to know. But it also told him that secondly – and perhaps more importantly – the little bugger had done this on _purpose_.

He stalked towards Ryan, loving the fact that the chair was low enough that Simon seemed to tower over him as he sat there. Reaching down, Simon played for a moment with the neck of Ryan’s t-shirt, running his finger underneath to rub against the skin of Ryan’s shoulder, before tugging lightly at it. 

“Take that off,” he murmured, putting only a hint of command in his tone. Just that little was enough, though; Ryan immediately stood up without a word of protest and grasped the bottom of the tee with both hands, turning it inside out as he pulled it over his head, and nearly dragging off his glasses in the process. Simon noticed that there seemed to be a design on the inside of the t-shirt – he caught the words ‘USA’ and ‘team’ before Ryan tossed the shirt aside – but then he was distracted by the miles of pale skin on Ryan’s naked chest; the cut of his clavicle; the almost girlish dip of his waist. And, finally, those astonishingly green eyes staring defiantly at him from behind those damnable glasses. 

Ryan had self-consciously crossed his arms over his chest under Simon’s stare, a habit which Simon always found frustrating and endearing in equal measures. He pulled Ryan’s arms down, wrapping one arm around Ryan’s waist and tangling the other in Ryan’s hair, before tugging him in for a kiss. It was slightly awkward, and Ryan’s glasses got in the way a little, and it was wet and messy and utterly wonderful. 

Simon broke the kiss, moving back just enough to appreciate Ryan’s kiss-swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes, and smiled. 

“I think you know what I want,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice nonchalant despite the fact that even thinking about it was sending his blood south so quickly he was getting light-headed. 

Ryan smirked, hooking his fingers into Simon’s belt loops and yanking gently; a light tease. “Why don’t you tell me?” he asked, expression playful, and Simon was _done_ with playing. He growled, grabbing Ryan’s hips not-quite hard enough to bruise, and spun them around, back up until he was leaning against the dressing table counter. 

“I want you,” Simon said slowly, “to suck my cock. And I want you to keep your glasses on while you do it.”

Ryan’s gaze turned heated, and he immediately dropped to his knees. Simon bit his lip and groaned – that was a sight that never got old, no matter how many times he saw it – then watched as Ryan’s nimble fingers quickly undid his fly and pulled his trousers down to his ankles. The chill of the dressing room hit his overheated skin and he could feel the hairs on his legs begin to prickle as gooseflesh formed for a moment, before his body acclimatised to the temperature. 

Shuffling closer, Ryan ran his hands up the back of Simon’s thighs, then leaned in and grabbed the top of Simon’s briefs with his _teeth_ , pulling them down just enough to bare the head of his cock. He was so hard it almost hurt, but Ryan seemed to want only to tease – first lapping gently at the head, then sucking at the skin of his stomach about an inch away. 

It was driving Simon crazy, so he reached down and gently grabbed hold of Ryan’s hair. 

“For fuck’s sake, will you just _suck_ me?” he hissed through gritted teeth, and Ryan grinned sunnily, tugging Simon’s briefs down to his ankles in one quick move. 

“Your wish…” Ryan chuckled quietly, and then _ohgod_. Tight, hot, wet suction, as Ryan’s tongue did something utterly diabolical while seeming to be all over his cock at once. He let go of Ryan’s hair and gripped the counter with both hands, trying not to thrust. Opening his eyes – when had he closed them? – Simon stared down at the sight below him: Ryan with one hand working his own cock while the other worked Simon’s in tandem to his mouth, eyes wide open all the while, staring up at Simon from behind those glasses. 

Simon could feel his orgasm building already; he wasn’t a young man any more, but Ryan got his so worked up through the course of each show with his ridiculous teasing that by the time they got to the actual sex he was almost ready to come anyway. He bit his lip, trying to hold off, but then Ryan pressed his tongue just underneath the head of his cock and that was _it_. 

He reached out again and tugged at Ryan’s hair, his voice almost a whine as he bit out, “Ryan, Ryan sweetheart, going to come,” but Ryan just sucked harder, bringing his other hand up to cup Simon’s balls, and Simon couldn’t hold back any more. He shuddered through his orgasm, his hands clutching uselessly at Ryan’s shoulders, until finally his vision cleared again, and he dropped, exhausted, into the chair next to him.

Ryan’s hand went back to his own cock, but Simon shook his head. “No, come here, darling,” he said, patting his lap, and Ryan stood, wincing slightly. Simon felt a moment of contrition for making him kneel on the hard floor, but it passed quickly as his mind was occupied on other things. Ryan made as if to straddle him, but Simon shook his head. “Turn around?”

He smiled as Ryan did so, sitting on Simon’s lap and moving backwards so that his back was plastered against Simon’s chest. Simon kissed gently at his shoulder and up his neck, reaching around and started stroking Ryan’s cock, slowly at first, then faster as Ryan began thrusting into his hand. Twisting his hand over the head, he bit down gently on Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan’s head flew back as he came all over his stomach and Simon’s hand. 

They sat for a moment like that, Simon’s arms wrapped loosely around Ryan’s shuddering form, until their breathing had calmed. Then Simon began to feel the chill of the room again on his bare legs, and he pushed lightly at Ryan’s back until he moved, doing up his jeans and grabbing his t-shirt from the floor where he had dropped it. Simon stood and pulled up his own briefs and trousers, dressing himself quickly.

Casually making his way over behind Ryan, Simon pulled his t-shirt to the side and kissed the spot where he had bitten him, where a bruise was already forming, before whispering in his ear, “Do stop wearing your glasses during the live shows; there’s a good boy.”

Ryan spun around and grabbed him, kissing him sloppily. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t wear them again.” He grabbed his jacket and strolled towards the door, glancing back coquettishly as he unlocked it. “At least, not for a few weeks.” And with that, he walked out, leaving Simon standing alone in the middle of the room, with the not entirely unpleasant thought that he had, in fact, lost that round of whatever this game was that they were playing. 

He smiled to himself as he wandered out to the parking lot, with only one thought on his mind: he was pretty sure this was the only game he could ever enjoy losing.


End file.
